


gasolina

by toewsin (haroldslouis)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Car Mechanic Patrick Kane, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Hockey Player Jonathan Toews, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Kink, Mutual Pining, Sex on a Car, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroldslouis/pseuds/toewsin
Summary: Patrick notices a person standing in front of the guardrail. The guy is standing with his back to him, broad shoulders filling out his jacket. He’s got a phone pressed to his ear. When he turns around Patrick has to blink a few times, because there’s no way thatJonathan Toewsis standing on the side of the road with car troubleOr, the one where Patrick is a mechanic and Jonny is the environmentally conscious NHL player whose Tesla keeps breaking down.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a short smutty one-shot but i'm at 9k already so that.....failed
> 
> buckle up y'all

 

Patrick is on his back under a black Camaro fixing up the fuel gauge unit when he catches his dad’s voice calling out his name. He tightens up the last screw and pushes off with his arms to get himself rolling out from under the Camaro. His dad is walking towards him and he gets up from the car creeper, pushing it out of the way with his foot. He wipes the grease from his hands off on a towel, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead.

It’s the smack in the middle of the summer, the late July sun burning down on the corrugated sheets covering the repair shop. The fans are whirring in the corners. A gust of cool air moves across his back every now and then. Tim’s been welding for the entire morning on the other side of the shop, bringing up the heat even more.

Patrick bends down to grab a bottle of water from the floor. He untwists the cap and downs all of it by the time his dad has made his way over.

“What’s up?” he asks, a few drops of cool water dripping down his chin and neck. “Someone called?”

His dad nods. “Yeah, some guy stuck on the side of the I-290 with a broken engine. Three minutes away from here.”

“Can’t you send Jacks?” Patrick gestures over his shoulder at the Camaro. “I gotta have her finished by tomorrow morning.”

“Jacks is already gone to a different call. Besides, the guy drives a Tesla. Thought you’d wanna have this one.”

Patrick nods. He _would_ like to get his hands on a Tesla, finally. Most of the stuck up types that drive those things send them off to the dealership if anything’s wrong with them. It would be his first time getting to take a closer look at one. “Okay, I’ll go. You got the keys to the truck?” His dad throws them his way and he catches them out of the air.

The sweltering heat hits him in the face as he walks out of the shop, moving across the parking lot. He squints a little against the glare of the sun, dust prickling in his eyelids. He gets up into the tow truck, slamming the door shut behind him. The engine rumbles as he turns the key in the ignition. The only clean finger on his hand is his pinky and he uses it to push the location into Google Maps as makes his way out of the parking lot.

He’s barely past the ramp to the I-290 when he spots the gleaming dark blue Tesla model X parked on the side of the road. “Oh, honey, aren’t you pretty?” Patrick grins to himself, taking another look at where the car is parked.

The hood of the car is propped open and traffic is whipping by with a furious pace. He notices a figure standing in front of the guardrail. The guy is standing with his back to Patrick, broad shoulders filling out his jacket. He’s got a phone pressed to his ear.

Patrick hopes the guy won’t be a dick about his car breaking down, because he can’t deal with that shit in this kind of heat. The dude’s dressed in a full on suit, too, so he’s probably suffering, too.

He turns on his blinker and merges into the emergency lane. He slows down the truck and stops a few yards behind the Tesla. The emergency lights flick on and he leans over to the glove compartment. As he takes out the forms, he casts another glance at the guy over the dashboard.

The guy turns around and is putting his phone away in the inside pocket of his jacket, probably having heard the truck arrive. Patrick blinks a few times, because there’s no way that _Jonathan Toews_ is standing on the side of the road with car trouble. His hand fumble a little and he drops the forms. They scatter across the floor mat.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He ducks down again, gathering the forms and arranging them in the right order. He grabs a pen from the passenger seat and wills himself to stop breathing so loud. Jesus, his heart is racing like he’s twelve again, watching Toews score in his first game for the Hawks. It’s just his fucking luck that he meets his hockey and teenage masturbation idol on the side of the road on the hottest day of the year while he’s sweaty and covered in oil. “C’mon, get it together,” he orders himself.

He straightens up and swings open the door, the heat enveloping him once again. He gets out, feet hitting the gravel. As he walks around the truck, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows. There’s a smear of grease on his cheekbone and there’s rip in the collar of his tank. He threads his fingers through his curls, the wind of the traffic whipping them around. At least it can’t get much worse, he figures, stepping around the truck and facing Jonathan Toews.

“You okay?” he calls out, walking closer to where Toews is standing.

Up close, he’s even _more_ than Patrick had pictured him. He’s tall and Patrick can see the strength in the way he holds himself. A hint of stubble covers his sharp jawline, which is slightly clenched in annoyance. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, showing the glinting hollow of his throat. Patrick pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth, because _of course_ Jonathan Toews looks gorgeous in this kinda heat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Toews replies. He holds his hand out to Patrick. “I’m Jonathan Toews.”

Patrick lets out a soft snort, feeling slightly hysterical inside at Toews’ introduction. “Yeah, I know. Nice to meet you, Jonathan. Patrick Kane.”

“Please, call me Jonny. You here for the car?”

Patrick nods. “Yeah, I’ve come to take a look at it.”

“Please,” Jonny says, stepping sideways. He nods at the car, pushing his hands in the pockets of his pants in a move that makes Patrick’s insides go all tight. “All of a sudden it just lost power, kept slowing down. There’s no lights blinking or anything.”

Patrick tries to keep the admiration for the car _and_ the man off of his face, but he’s probably doing an awful job. At least he’s allowed to take a closer look at the Tesla, which is what he does. She looks new and beautiful, completely clean and not a scratch on her paint job to be seen. He walks up closer and eyes the engine under the opened hood. He does the first checks, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.

Jonny suddenly stands next to him, the sleeve of his suit jacket brushing Patrick’s arm as he gestures at the engine. “I opened it and took a look myself but I can’t say I really know my stuff. Figured I’d just call a shop before I begin to hack at it with my keys.”

Patrick keeps his eyes fixed on the engine but he can’t stop the slight tug at the corners of his mouth. He finds it oddly endearing that Jonny just readily admits his lack of knowledge about cars. Lord knows how many guys he’s seen come into the shop with a broken car that have done most of the damage themselves, trying to fix it with the sheer power of their masculinity.

Even with his face above an engine and his eyes fixed on the voltage controller, the smell of Jonny’s cologne reaches his nostrils. It smells really good--expensive.  He wonders where Jonny’s headed at the moment, right in the middle of the off season. He’s dressed as if he’s going to a meeting or a date. After realizing he’s been looking at the coolant level for about a minute in total silence, he shakes himself out of his distracted thoughts about the car’s owner. He straightens up and takes another look at the engine, frowning a little.

Jonny makes a noise and Patrick looks over, Jonny’s deep brown eyes giving him a questioning look. “You good?”

“Yeah, fine,” Patrick nods. He holds up his hand above his brow to block out the sun as he looks at Jonny. “I just have to get something from the truck. The problem’s probably with your battery but I need to check if I’m right. I might be able to fix it right here.”

Jonny’s expression clears. “Really? That’d be great. I’m on my way to the convention right now and it’d suck if I’d be late.”

Right. The Chicago Blackhawks fan convention. If Patrick hadn’t gotten enough reminders of the fact that there’s one of the best players in the league next to him, now he’s got the image of thousands of fans waiting for him and chanting his name. He manages a smile and walks back to the truck. He puts the clipboard on the top of the hood, his sweaty fingers having smudged some of the ink on the forms.

He picks up his toolbox from the floor on the passenger’s side of the truck and carries it back over to where Jonny is standing. He’s back on the phone, talking to someone. His hand is propped up against the roof of the car, the fabric of his jacket tightening around his bicep. The sun catches on the silver cufflink on his sleeve and the glint hits Patrick’s eye.

He gets out a flat-end screwdriver from the toolbox and bends over the batteries of the car. The need to free up his hands makes him put the screwdriver in between his teeth, as he uses his fingers to prie apart two pieces. The heat of the sun burns the back of his neck and he can feel a drop of sweat sliding down his temple. He needs to get in a little deeper, standing up on his tiptoes and letting the front of the car support his hips.

“Hm?” he hears Jonny say on the phone. “Oh, sorry. No--I heard you. The car’s being looked at right now.”

Patrick takes out the screwdriver from between his teeth, pushing the flat edge of it between two battery modules. The muscle in his arm strains as he tries to look between the two components. _There_. The battery connector has detached. Using the screwdriver for leverage, he manages to get the battery connector back into place with his other hand. He hears it click and straightens with a grunt, the screwdriver coming loose.

Jonny ends his phone call, staring at Patrick as he checks the movement of his arm, stretching his muscle.

Patrick meets his gaze and cracks a smile. “It ain’t pretty but it works,” he shrugs. “You should be good now, but I’d send the car in for a check-up soon. Just to be sure the connector doesn’t come loose again.”

“So it’s fixed?” Jonny asks, his gaze flicking between Patrick’s face and the car. “Just like that?”

“Involving a good show of strength, I’d say,” Patrick jokes. “But yeah, go check if it turns on again.”

He watches Jonny walk around to the driver’s side, smoothly getting into the car. Something hot settles in his stomach, watching through the windshield as Jonny shifts into the leather seat and curls his fingers around the steering wheel. He drags his eyes away to focus on the engine, watching it come alive when Jonny turns the car on. Smiling to himself, he sticks his thumb up above the hood of the car.

Jonny turns the car off and gets out again. He’s got a grin on his face, making him look younger than the frown he’d been sporting earlier. Patrick can’t help but smile back.

“Thanks so much,” Jonny says, holding his hand out to Patrick. “I was already picturing the headlines if I hadn’t been able to show up at the convention.”

Patrick shakes it, feeling the calluses on both their hands. The strength of Jonny’s grip matches his own, but it still makes his arm feel a little weak. “No problem. Glad to get you to your awaiting fans on time.”

Jonny smiles. “Yeah, thank god.” He feels around for his wallet. “What do you get from me? I had to get a valve in the engine replaced about two weeks ago which cost me a thousand or two, so I figure about the same?”

Patrick chokes on a breath at Jonny’s nonchalance about the amount of money. He quickly shakes his head. “No, not at all. You were ripped off, dude, for that valve. Besides, I didn’t need to replace any parts, so it’s just my hourly rate.”

“Oh. Ripped off, really?”

This time Patrick does snort, nodding. “Definitely ripped off.”

“Hm.” Jonny looks pensive. “Guess I’ll have to change car shops, then. How do I pay you?”

Patrick swallows all indecent comments that come up in ninety percent of mechanic porn videos, but just _barely_. “I brought some forms you’ll have to fill in and then it’ll go through the bank,” he jerks his head in the direction of the truck. He moves over and slides the forms over the hood. He takes off the pen that is clipped to the ripped collar of his tank, handing it to Jonny.

Jonny follows the movement with his eyes and takes it, fingers curling around the pen. “Thanks. What do I have to fill in?”

Patrick leans over, careful not to get any grease from his fingers on the paper. “There and there.”

While Jonny bends down to fill in his personal details and bank account number, Patrick lets himself glance at the side of his face. He’d noticed Jonny’s profile earlier, how can anyone not? He’s got that type of angular bone structure that emphasizes the line of his jaw and cheekbones. His skin is tanned from the summer, contrasting with the crisp white collar of his button-down. The heat doesn’t seem to bother him, despite wearing a suit. There’s a hint of gray at his temples, fading into his brown hair. Patrick’s always had a thing for older guys, but the gray hair on Jonny hits him right in his solar plexus. He clears his throat and looks away, taking in the traffic racing past them.

When the sound of scribbling stops, he looks back over. Jonny has tilted his head, already looking up at him. Their eyes meet and to Patrick, the world quiets a little. The traffic around them slows down to a crawl as he watches Jonny blink.

“C’mere,” Jonny says, his voice deep. He straightens and moves a little closer. He hooks a finger in the collar of Patrick’s tank. Patrick instinctively takes a step forward, his eyes briefly flicking down to Jonny’s lips and seeing Jonny’s do the same. This can’t be happening, he thinks, this isn’t real. He sees Jonny bring up his other hand and he feels a tingle move down his spine.

Jonny clips the pen back onto Patrick’s collar with a smirk.

“Thanks again,” he says, stepping away from the truck. He flashes Patrick a grin, seeming completely unaffected. He walks backwards to his car, telling him, “The fans of the Chicago Blackhawks will be forever grateful to Kane’s Cars and Repairs,” before turning around and getting in his car.

Patrick rubs a hand across his chest as if to chase the ghost of Jonny’s touch, willing his heart to stop racing inside his ribcage. He watches the taillights of the Tesla come on and steps back to avoid the dust coming up as Jonny drives away.

 

-

 

If July was warm, the end of August brings a whole new level of heat to Chicago. It clings to the city like the grease Patrick’s currently trying to get out from under his fingernails. Hearing footsteps behind him, he looks over his shoulder. Erica is leaning against the doorpost.

“Hey, everything good?” he asks, reaching up to pump some more soap into the palm of his hand.

“Jonathan Toews called,” Erica says.

The soap bottle slips from his hands and clatters into the sink, the water rebounding off the bottle onto his shirt. Erica starts laughing.

“Fuck,” he yelps, grabbing the bottle and putting it back on the glass shelf. He shakes the droplets from his curls and gives his sister a shrug. “Right, so what if he called? What does he want?”

“Nice try at nonchalance, Patty,” Erica grins, swinging the keys to the tow truck from her index finger. “We both know you’ll kill me if I take the truck down to where he’s stranded with his Tesla.”

“I’m starting to think those cars might be overrated,” Patrick mutters, looking down at where the water is still turning black from his hands.

“Well, in that case you wouldn’t mind me taking this one, right?” Erica asks, an innocent tone to her voice.

“You’ve got the Volkswagen that needs its windows fixed,” Patrick says, turning off the faucet and drying his hands on the red bandana he usually keeps tied to his wrist. He takes the keys from Erica’s hand. “I’ll take the Tesla.”

“Such a selfless gesture,” Erica laughs, letting Patrick pass her in the doorway.

“Get to work,” Patrick yells over his shoulder.

He makes his way across the parking lot and unlocks the truck. After getting in, he takes out his phone and turns on the GPS for the notification. The location seems familiar for a second, before he realizes it’s Johnny’s IceHouse.

Letting out a groan, he shifts the car into gear and drives off of the parking lot. A glance at the clock tells him it’s 1 p.m., which probably means the Hawks have just finished a preseason practice. Just what he needs right now, Jonathan Toews looking hot in hockey gear while he’s trying to do his job. It’s not as if last month’s meeting didn’t give him enough material for his spank bank for the foreseeable future. The way Jonny had walked into his personal space, trapping his gaze for--fuck, God knows how long--just to clip back the pen on his collar. As if Patrick couldn’t have done that himself. Just thinking about it again makes something burn low in his spine.

It’s not just that what keeps his mind occupied from time to time. After meeting Jonny back in July his interest in the Hawks had shifted to a whole new level. He’d started following Jonny on Twitter and Instagram, following his tree planting activities in the off season and rewatching the live stream of the convention panels. Hearing Jonny say at one of the panels that he’d almost been late if it hadn’t been for the “quick and skillful fix” that his car had underwent just half an hour before had made his fingers twitch, the praise blooming in his chest.

As he drives down towards Johnny’s IceHouse he quickly gives himself a once-over. His old pair of track pants has seen its best moments, riding low on his hips. At least the shirt he’s wearing is black, hiding the worst of the grease stains.

The AC on the truck is broken, which is just hypocrisy at its finest for Kane’s Cars and Repairs, and Patrick can feel his curls stick to the back of his neck. It makes him feel kinda gross, so he unties the bandana from around his wrist. When the truck is stopped in front of a red light, he tugs down the sun visor and looks in the mirror. He ties the bandana around his head, using it to push his curls away from the skin of his forehead.

He arrives at Johnny’s IceHouse five minutes later and notices the blue Tesla as he drives across the parking lot.

Jonny is leaning against the side of the car, a large sports bag at his feet. He’s not in his hockey gear anymore, but Patrick ignores the disappointment he feels. Jonny’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt with a v-neck instead. Even from where he’s at, Patrick can see the way the shorts fit around Jonny’s thighs and how the t-shirt stretches across his chest. Muttering at himself for some strength from above, he parks the truck and gets out with his toolbox.

“Lemme guess,” he says, as he gets closer to Jonny and the car. “You didn’t get that check-up for the car, did you?”

Jonny has the decency to look at least slightly embarrassed. “I got busy.”

“It was the middle of the summer,” Patrick retorts, walking around the car to the front. He sets his toolbox down on the ground and props open the hood of the car.

“Do you know how many trees I’ve had to plant over the past few weeks?” Jonny stands next to him, watching him bend over the batteries again.

“A lot. Even all the way in Canada. Didn’t think anything would grow in that barren wasteland of a country.”

“It’s not a wasteland,” Jonny shoots back, his top lip curling a little. “Besides, how do you know?”

Patrick stills, closing his eyes for a second. “I may have followed you on Instagram after our last meeting. _May have_.”

“Ah, so you’re the fan account that keeps posting Sims versions of me. Gonna ask for a follow now, too?”

Patrick can hear the smile in Jonny’s voice and suppresses his own. “No, I won’t stoop that low. You’re not that good, anyway. I don’t know why people even make fan accounts for you.”

A thrill goes through his spine when he can feel Jonny brush closely past him, coming to stand at the other side of the car.

Jonny’s deep voice suddenly sound very close when he says, “I don’t believe that.”

Patrick straightens slightly, his thighs against the front of Jonny’s car. He meets Jonny’s eyes, ignoring what the cocky smile on Jonny’s lips does to his stomach. “That’s your problem. Coincidentally, what’s _also_ your problem is that this car ain’t goin’ anywhere anymore. She’s kinda dead.”

The playful smile that had curled around the corners of Jonny’s mouth fades. “You’re joking.”

“Not dead, but,” Patrick grimaces. “Not doing good, either. I’m gonna have to tow her to the shop and see what’s wrong and if it’s fixable.”

“Wh--” Jonny looks around, taking in Patrick’s words, “How am I gonna get home then?”

“We’re in the middle of Chicago, take the L,” Patrick shrugs.

Jonny makes a face.

“Oh, get over yourself. Is that too low for you?” Patrick laughs. “Call an Uber then, demand a Mercedes if that helps you sleep at night.”

“It’s not that,” Jonny says, “Going on public transport isn’t that easy when you’re me.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that one,” Patrick concedes. “Where do you live, anyway? If it’s on the way to the shop, I can give you a ride.”

“Gold Coast, the new Walton building. Do you know it?”

Patrick’s smile widens. “Oh my God, you really are a snob! I’m second guessing your public transport excuse.”

“I’m not a snob!” Jonny protests.

“Just… stop talking and get in the truck, Toews.”

 

-

 

It’s barely past nine the following morning when Patrick gets the time to get underneath Jonny’s Tesla. He lies down on the car creeper and slides underneath the elevated car, running his hand along the edge.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he mumbles around the pair of sockets between his teeth. “Are we feeling any better today or what?”

Time passes by quickly whenever he gets wrapped up in a problem. He likes the entire process that goes into fixing a car. Most days it’s only his growling stomach that will get him out from under a car, and even then he puts it off as long as possible.

He’s just started looking into the suspension area by the front left wheel when there’s a pair of shoes appearing above his head. He removes the wrench he’d placed on the drive shaft and pushes himself out from under the car.

He ends up with Jonathan Toews’ feet on either side of his head and really, he can’t say he hates the view from down here.

“Morning,” he says.

“Hey,” Jonny grins down at him. “You look pretty comfortable on your back.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Hilarious.”

Jonny holds out his hand and Patrick takes it, letting out a groan as he gets tugged upright by Jonny. They end up standing pretty close and he can feel the warmth emanating from Jonny’s chest. He can't read Jonny's expression when their eyes meet, but the look sends a shock of heat low in his gut.

He clears his throat as he steps back and takes a glance at the clock. “You’re early. I’m good but not _that_ good. I’ve barely gotten a look at what could be wrong.”

“You’re early yourself, it seems. I didn’t see anyone around when I got here.” Jonny takes a look around the shop before his eyes settle back on Patrick.

Patrick jerks his head to the ceiling. “That’s because I live on the second floor. I usually open and close the shop nowadays. My dad’s getting older, too, so he likes not having to get here so early in the morning.”

Jonny hums, seeming to take in the information as he picks up a wrench and feels the weight of it in his hand. “Taking over the family business, then?”

“Eventually, yeah,” Patrick shrugs. “I like doing this work and the whole company’s set up, so why not?”

“You’re, what, twenty? Lotta kids going to college around that age,” Jonny says, still walking around and touching things here and there, taking in the other cars in the shop.

"I did go to college for a few tech certificates and a business diploma, just so I’m legally able to take over the company when the time comes,” Patrick corrects him. “And I'm twenty-three. Not a kid anymore. ”

“Oh, sorry, twenty- _three_ ,” Jonny acknowledges, sending Patrick a grin that makes something in his stomach flutter, before disappearing behind the elevated car. “It’s great that you know what you want. You’re good at it, too.”

The praise makes Patrick’s cheeks heat up. He’s glad that Jonny's hidden behind the car and can’t see it. “Don’t cheer too soon, I haven’t fixed your car, yet.”

Their eyes meet again as Jonny comes back from around the car. “I’m sure you will.”

Patrick’s pretty certain that Jonny does notice his flushed cheeks this time and he turns around to grab a wrench. He tries to deflect by saying, “I have a feeling it’s got to do with the power steering bolts, but I’m not sure. The car starts just fine, so it’s not the engine or the batteries this time.”

He walks around to where the car creeper is and sinks down on it, just barely catching the way Jonny’s looking at him before he slides back under the car again.

“You gonna go or stick around and be helpful?” Patrick asks, feeling bolder now that Jonny can’t see the way his cheeks go red.

“You think I don’t have anything better to do on my day off?” Jonny retorts.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who showed up here at nine in the morning.”

It stays quiet for a beat, but then Jonny says, “Just let me know when I have to grab something for you.”

Again, Patrick manages to keep in the mechanic porn dialogue about Jonny grabbing his ass, but only just. He tries to focus on the steering bolts, trying to find the problem.

The next two hours is spent with him underneath the car, ordering Jonny around to get him stuff. In between the work he’s doing, they manage to keep up a steady conversation. He asks Jonny about the Hawks and what he did during the offseason. They talk about the new bar that’s opened up on Armitage and how Patrick got into car mechanics as a kid. As he tugs loose a bolt with a small grunt, he thinks about how unfair it is that Jonny has both an amazing ass _and_ a good personality.

His stomach is beginning to give a growl when he finds the problem. “Got it!”

“Really?” Jonny sounds happy. “What is it--and can you fix it?”

“It’s the axle," Patrick says, twisting a bolt loose with a grunt."God, it’s a miracle you didn’t lose a fucking wheel while driving this thing.” Patrick pushes himself out from under the car and allows Jonny to haul him up again..

“Can you fix it, though?” Jonny repeats, sporting a few streaks of grease across his cheekbones as well..

Patrick’s momentarily distracted by how incredibly hot he looks, but then he realizes they’re still holding hands and pulls them back, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. He realizes he’s spreading oil across his skin and stops. “Uh, yeah. It should be fixable but I need to order a few joints. I have enough of those lying around here but they won’t fit on a Tesla because they make their own.”

“Right, that’s good,” Jonny looks relieved, looking around him and wiping off his hands with a rag that looks sort of clean. He hands it to Patrick. “How long does it take to get those joints? Please don’t say six weeks.”

Patrick snorts, shaking his head. He drags the rag across the back of his neck. “No, nothing like that. I should be able to get it tomorrow if I order it before three today. You have anything to do tomorrow night?”

“Not really, just a practice in the afternoon. You sure you’ll be done by then? I can come by a day later if you need the time.”

“It’s just a matter of putting the joints into place, it shouldn’t take that long.” Patrick feels his stomach give another growl and gives Jonny a sheepish smile. “I’m gonna get something to eat, I got a Fiat and a Lexus waiting for me after.”

Jonny’s expression seems to falter a little. “Right. Of course, you’ve got more to do. I’ll get out of your hair, then.”

“Hey,” Patrick says, looking up at Jonny from under his lashes..

Jonny meets his eyes, a hint of something in them that Patrick can’t read.

“Tomorrow you’ll get your baby back,” he says, sending Jonny a grin. “No more working class Ubers for you.”

“Oh,” Jonny’s head gives a little shake and he lets out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Patrick’s throat goes a little dry when Jonny walks past and squeezes his shoulder, his thumb briefly dragging across the sweaty skin on the back of his neck.

“See you tomorrow, Patrick.”

 

-

 

He’s scarfing down his dinner in the backroom of the shop, perched on the top of the desk while Erica spreads out on the old couch, when his sister suddenly pipes up with: “So Jonathan’s coming by tonight again, right?”

Patrick hums around a mouthful of food, jaw working as he chews. “Yeah, he’s coming around eight. I still need to put in some bolts, though, so I’m heading back in a moment.”

“I’ll get out of your hair, too, as soon as I’ve finished this. So you’ll have the shop to yourself.” She raises one of her eyebrows suggestively, her smile widening when Patrick tries to ignore it. “Come on, this guy is into you. I saw him from the office when he left yesterday. Totally in love.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Totally in love,” he repeats, “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if you even hear yourself speak.”

Erica lets out an exasperated groan. “Okay, so maybe not totally in love _yet_ , but come on, how many NHL stars spend a morning at a car shop on their day off? I haven’t seen Cory Crawford in here even though his car gets a yearly check up. Hey, tell Jonny to bring Cory along for me.”

“I’m not telling him shit,” Patrick says, swallowing the last bite of his food. “Crawford’s too good for you anyway. Maybe go third or fourth line, hm?”

The look Erica sends him makes him crack and he laughs, reaching over to pat her on her knee. “I’m kidding. Crawford wouldn’t know what hit him if you came around, which is sayin’ something because he deals with pucks flying at his head on a daily basis.”

“You know, I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Why don’t you take a second to think about it,” Patrick suggests, taking their plates over to the small kitchenette and putting them in the dishwasher. “If I don’t see you again before you head out, I’ll see you tomorrow at ten by the BMW 3 series, okay?”

“Okay,” Erica nods. Just before Patrick walks back into the shop she calls after him. “Remember, _totally in love._ ”

Patrick snorts, grabbing his toolbox as he walks over to Jonny’s Tesla. As he gets back under the car, he does think that it’s a little hysterical that his sister thinks Jonny would actually fall in love with him, just because he spent yesterday morning at the shop. Hell, if he had a car that kept breaking down he’d stick around it, too, to make sure it’d get fixed up once and for all. It’s only logical.

He tinkering around with the brake pedal switch, trying to get it back on. It’s doesn’t want to fasten, though, and he lets out a breath of frustration around the handle of the pliers he’s got in his mouth. The doors to the shop clang shut and he knows it must be Jonny, Erica having left about half and hour ago.

He’s getting up just as Jonny’s walking over, taking the pair of pliers out from between his teeth. Jonny follows the movement and grins, “Not enough hands?”

“Hey,” Patrick smiles. “No, not really. Not for this part. Everything’s finished but the brake switch has to be tightened.”

Jonny rolls up the sleeves of his gray henley. “Lemme help, then.”

Patrick sees the strength in Jonny’s tanned forearms, traces the blue veins snaking down to his large hands. God, those hands can probably curl around his wrist easily. He tears his eyes away to the wrench he picks up.

“Alright, alright. Trying to prove you’re not a snob?” He hands the wrench to Jonny.

Jonny feels the weight of it in his palm before closing his fist around it. “Nah. Just thought you were in need a bit of manpower to get this done.”

“Can’t deny that,” Patrick concedes, shrugging. He looks around and takes away the car creeper from Tim’s station. He pushes it over to Jonny with his foot. “Show me what you’ve got, then.”

“I will.” Jonny sits down on the leather seat before lying back.

Patrick gets a look of Jonny’s shorts riding up his thick thighs before Jonny pushes himself underneath the car. He lies down himself and uses his feet to get under the car as well.

For one person, there’s already not a lot of space under the Tesla. With both of them under there and Jonny’s preseason bulk, it’s definitely a tight fit. Their shoulders are pushed together and Patrick can feel the hair on Jonny’s arm tickle the side of his wrist. He can hear Jonny’s soft breathing coming from his mouth, the warmth of his skin seeping through his clothes. Patrick can’t help himself, he turns his head to the side. Jonny’s face is a few inches away from his, and even in the dark Patrick can see Jonny’s throat work as he swallows.

“So, now what?” Jonny’s voice sounds low and deep, softer than normal.

Patrick fumbles for the flashlight he’s got clipped to the underside of the car and he turns it on. The beam of light illuminates the suspension by the left wheel.

“See your gas pedal right there?” he mutters. He lift his arm to briefly point at it and when he lets it down again, Jonny’s fingers are on the inside of his wrist. A shudder goes down his spine when Jonny doesn’t move them.

“Yeah, the switch is already on there, right?” Jonny says, turning his head slightly towards Patrick to take a better look.

Patrick grabs the brake switch from where he’d put it down on the floor and holds it up in the light to show it to Jonny. “This one has to go on the brake pedal, but you need two hands to press the pedal in as far as it can go. That exposes the axle so the switch can be placed, but that requires a set of hands, as well.”

“Alright,” Jonny nods. “Where do you need my hands to go?”

Patrick nearly lets out the pent up groan from between his teeth, because honestly, Jonny’s just asking for it. Instead, he swallows and says, “You press down the pedal as far as it can go, then I’ll be able to get my fingers in there.”

Jonny hums and shifts a little closer to Patrick to get the right amount of leverage on the pedal. Patrick can feel the tension in Jonny’s arms when he starts to push the pedal downwards and he instinctively moves in closer as well, holding the brake switch between his fingers.

“Okay,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Now, just gonna--get that fixed there.”

The switch is in place and he pulls back his left hand to grab the impact wrench that he’d placed on the outside of the front wheel.

“You good?” he asks Jonny, checking in.

“Yeah, good.” Jonny’s got his jaw clenched, trying to keep the pressure on the pedal.

“Alright,” Patrick slides down a little on the creeper, getting a better view of where the bolts should go. “Four bolts, one minute max.”

He sets down the impact wrench between his legs and puts three of the bolts between his teeth. The other magnetically clicks to the impact wrench and he brings it to the switch. The wrench whirrs loudly in the small space, the bolt tightening quickly. He repeats the process with the other three and then pulls back.

“Okay, you can let go,” he tells Jonny.

Jonny releases the pedal, breathing softly. “It’s done?”

“Yeah, all fixed,” Patrick says. “She should be good as new.”

He doesn’t immediately push himself out from under the car, though. Jonny’s hand is resting against the back of his own, the skin warm and soft. Patrick pulls the inside of his cheek between his teeth, trying not to breathe too loud in the small space. He can feel when Jonny’s fingers twitch a little, and thinks back to what Erica said that evening. She was right--what NHL player spends their free time at a car shop? Something close to hope and recklessness bubbles up in his throat and he moves his fingers, curling them around Jonny’s on an intake of breath. For a second, Jonny does nothing and Patrick wonders if he’d even noticed. But then, suddenly, Jonny pushes himself out from under the car with a jerk of his feet. Patrick lets out his breath on a start and takes a second before doing the same.

He stands up from the creeper, apology on his tongue and ready to get cursed out, to get slapped in the face, anything--when Jonny just walks over to the front desk by the entrance.

“You’ve got my bank information, right?” he asks. Outwardly, he seems normal and composed, but Patrick can hear the distant, neutral tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

He swallows and nods, moving behind the desk and bringing up Jonny’s client profile on the screen. He tries to still his trembling fingers as he uses the mouse to scroll down the page. “Yeah, it’s all good. Just, uh, you’ve got to sign the collection form. I’ll drive your car out to the parking lot while you do that.”

He doesn’t run but he does hurry across the shop, feeling a sheen of cold sweat on his back. Fucking stupid move, he chants over and over to himself, lowering Jonny’s car down and getting in. The engine comes on silently, the car gliding perfectly as he drives it out of the shop.

Jonny meets him on the parking lot, giving him an indecipherable look when he gets out of the car. Patrick does notice the flush high on Jonny’s cheekbones but he looks away, figuring he’s done enough damage already.

“Drive safe. Call if there’s anything wrong with it,” he says.

Jonny sends him a grimace that’s got a hint of a smile but a whole lot of something else. “See you, Pat.”

Patrick gives him a wave after Jonny closes the door. He watches the car move across the parking lot and drive out onto the street until it’s gone around the corner. A sigh escapes his lips and he threads his clammy fingers through his hair. The rejection aches in his chest, his breath shuddering as he inhales. That could’ve gone so much worse than it did, and it already went pretty fucking terrible.

He makes his way back inside the car shop and closes everything down for the night, walking around in a slow and thoughtless daze. The cold water from the shower rinses off most of the dirt and sweat from his skin. While he’s rubbing the pad of his thumb across his knuckles, getting off the oil from his hands, he realizes he was in way over his head. Jonathan Toews, a thirty-year-old three-time Stanley Cup winner and millionaire, being into _him_? It’s the stuff of Lifetime romantic comedies, and not even one of the better ones.

He shakes his head, feeling the water flatten down his curls and cascade down his body. A bitter chuckle leaves his lips as he thinks about the story he’ll get to tell in a few years. If only it didn’t sting so much, right now.


	2. two

His personal training has just ended when Jonny gets to his car, opening up the trunk and shoving his sports bag inside. He feels a twinge in his neck as he does it and he frowns, rubbing at the sore spot as he gets into the driver’s side of the car. There’s a lot of traffic on the streets so he slows down his pace, turning up the volume on the radio. 

The traffic light in front of him turns red and he stops the car. His fingers drum along with the rhythm of the song while he waits. The road has a slight decline and he notices his car rolling forward a little. He tests the give of the brake pedal, pressing down harder on it. The movement takes him back to that evening a few weeks ago, when he’d helped Patrick with the switch. He pushes the gas too hard when the light goes green again, the back of the car in front of him suddenly very close. He eases off a little, muttering to himself.

It’s been three weeks but he can’t seem to get Patrick out of his mind. Every time he gets in his car there’s a little something that he notices that reminds him of Patrick. Outside of the car, too, he keeps getting distracted with his thoughts wandering back to him. Who’d have thought he’d get like this back in June, when they first met?

Because yeah, it was clear the kid had a crush on him as soon as he came up to shake his hand. The hero worship was palpable in the way Patrick looked at him, although he did make an effort to hide it. It wasn’t just hero worship, though, because he’d felt the heat in Patrick’s gaze while he’d been filling out the forms. Patrick was attracted to him. Jonny had thought he’d humor the kid a little by stepping in close to clip the pen back on his collar, giving him a story to tell his friends or to remember fondly. He’d been twenty-three once, too, knows what it was like. 

And it wasn’t like he’d stepped up the charm reluctantly. Patrick is easy on the eyes, despite being covered in grease and a sheen of sweat most of the time. Or maybe  _ because _ of that--Jonny’s not entirely sure. Patrick also has the baby blues and the dimples that instinctively make you want to smile back at him. The curls make him look like jailbait, he’d pass for nineteen if it weren’t for his defined biceps and traps. He’d especially enjoyed the view when Patrick had been on his tiptoes, bent over the front of his car to get a better look at his engine. 

But that would be the end of that, he’d figured. Until it wasn’t. Other than the fact that he’d sometimes catch glimpses of Patrick sucking down his cock whenever he closed his eyes and jerked off--he also got into car trouble again. Patrick had come to the IceHouse with the tow truck to take his car away, and he’d been the perfect combination of pretty, snarky, and sexy that Jonny had just felt himself falling. Turns out, Patrick wasn’t the only one with a crush.

He’d indulged himself, too, by coming around the car shop the following morning and spending a few hours with Patrick. Patrick clearly knew what he was doing, getting lost in his work and using his body to get parts of the car to work with him, too wrapped up with a problem to notice the way Jonny had followed each movement with his eyes. 

It was only when Patrick had curled his fingers around Jonny’s own in the calm quiet of that evening, both of them sharing the small space under the car, that he’d yanked himself out of his infatuated daze. He was being stupid, letting himself get so wrapped up with a guy that’s seven years younger than him. It wasn’t fair to Patrick, either. So he’d pushed out from under the car and pretended that nothing had happened. Patrick took the rejection better than he would have at that age, but Jonny had seen the flash of hurt and confusion in the blue glint of his eyes. 

It was for the better. Why it is, he’s not really sure but that’s what has been his mantra for the past weeks. It’s for the better that he pushed out instead of pulling Patrick in. It’s for the better that he should get a new car shop for whenever his car inevitably will break down again. It’s for the better that he opens his eyes whenever an image of Patrick comes up while he’s jerking off. It’s for the better.

He parks the car in the underground garage of his building and goes by the mailboxes to collect his mail. On his way up in the elevator, he rifles through the small stack. He tears open an envelope with his teeth while he pushes through his front door. 

He’s gone through most of his mail when he gets to the last item, a folded flyer. Sipping from the glass of water he’d forgotten to drink this morning, he unfolds it and reads the front. The sip nearly goes down his windpipe and he swallows, coughing loudly.

The front of the flyer reads:  **KANE’S CARS & REPAIRS ANNUAL CHARITY CAR WASH - AUGUST 29 ** in bright blue letters within a border of soap bubbles.

Jonny downs the rest of the water, not taking his eyes off of the flyer. He turns it around and reads the back of the flyer, taking in the information about the charity the money’s going to and at what time the car wash will be. Jonny rubs at his stubble with his thumb, turning the flyer back to the front again.

He’s not going. Obviously not, when his own building has a free car wash service that he uses every week. It’d be ridiculous to go down to a charity car wash and pay ten or fifteen bucks to get his already clean car another wash. It’s not necessary. 

Besides, there’s other people who will contribute to the charity drive who actually do need their cars washed. It’s clear. His mind is made up. He’s  _ not _ going.

 

-

 

One week later, Jonny is in his car headed to the charity car wash.

He’s got the sunroof of his car opened up, the sun shining down on the crown of his head as he nears the location. There are blue painted wooden arrows at the corners of the streets, pointing him in the direction of the shop. Tugging down the sun visor, he checks his reflection. He’s hasn’t shaved in a few days, the stubble blending into his graying hair by his ears. His shirt is a faded shade of blue, the fabric soft from use. He pushes the sun visor back up. There’s no need to look good, anyway. It’s just a charity car wash. 

With the sun high in the sky and the end of summer in the air, it’s a beautiful day for a charity event. He drives onto the street of the show, the wheels of his car crunching over the gravel. There’s about five cars waiting ahead of him and Jonny steers his Tesla into the line. He can’t see much of what’s happening on the parking lot, apart from the inflatable tube man moving above the gate and soap bubbles drifting through the air. The smell of burgers tickles his nostrils and he hears water splashing, children squealing giddily. 

After waiting for a while, he’s nearly at the front of the line. There’s only one car left in front of him currently being hosed down by Patrick’s dad, his sister spraying a cleaning solution on the silver rims. Patrick doesn’t seem to be around, but Jonny pushes down the disappointment that bubbles up. It’s for charity, he reminds himself, looking down to take out a fifty from his pocket.

When he looks up, Patrick is standing in full view through the windshield, his back turned towards Jonny. His first instinct is to shrink down in his seat but he stays where he is. The reason he came is because he’s a good person who cares about giving back to the less fortunate. There’s no shame in that. 

His eyes track Patrick’s movements, watching him dip a sponge in soapy water and starting on the bumper of the car in front. He’s wearing a white tank that’s gone completely see through from the water that’s sliding down from his arms. The wet fabric clings to his shoulder blades and the small of his back, showing off the swell of his ass. Jonny imagines how cool the skin must be there, all slick and wet, and how Patrick would startle when he’d push his hand underneath his top to drag his warm fingers across it. 

Jonny feels his throat go dry and swallows. A shock of heat moves down his stomach when Patrick bends down to clean the license plate. The gray sweat shorts he’s wearing have gone dark from the water, hugging his ass and quads. His wet skin makes his arms glint in the sunlight as he dunks a sponge in the soapy water.. Jonny sees the muscles move as Patrick squeezes the sponge, dragging it across the letters on the number plate. 

This is pure torture. He doesn’t know if contributing to charity is worth sitting through all this.  

He takes a long time to look away, though. Only when Patrick straightens and beckons with his fingers for the next car to drive up on the tarp does he break his stare. He sees Patrick’s eyes widen in surprise when he spots the Tesla, his mouth opening slightly. Their eyes meet through the windshield and Patrick gives him a smile. He walks up closer to the car.

Jonny lowers his window and Patrick bends down, leaning in so their eyes meet. His cheeks are pink, making his eyes look even brighter. He smells fresh and soapy, a few of his wet curls sticking to temples. 

“Morning, Mr. Toews,” Patrick says, in a tone that’s slightly teasing. “Drove all the way down to get your clean car washed?” 

“It’s for charity,” Jonny retorts, weakly. 

“Giving back to the community. Very noble of you,” Patrick says, something pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll call Erica over to get your car washed.”

Something sinks inside of Jonny but he thinks he manages to keep a straight face. “Sure, you do that.”

Patrick straightens to look around for his sister across the parking lot, before his face reappears in Jonny’s window. “Can’t see her. Guess I’ll have to do the honors.”

“Looks like it,” Jonny says, feeling the strain in his smile when Patrick bends down to dunk his sponge in the bucket. He averts his eyes from Patrick’s ass and spots Erica Kane across the parking lot. 

“Hey,” Patrick says, crooking his fingers at Jonny. “Windows up.” 

Jonny follows to comply, the sunroof whizzing softly as it closes above his head. He leans against the back of his chair and curls his fingers a little tighter around the bottom of the steering wheel.

It’s all he can do while Patrick begins washing the car, stretching across the hood to get at it all. The shimmering blue paint job disappears under a layer of soap, bubbles flying up and popping in the air. He watches Patrick move around the sides of the car through the mirrors, sees him washing up the passenger doors and the rims of the tires. Water streams down his forearms whenever he drags his sponge back up out of the bucket. Patrick wipes his curls out of his eyes with the side of his hand, a blob of soap clinging to his hair. It’s only when he breathes out again that Jonny notices how long he’s been holding his breath. Lust tickles low in his stomach, making him bite down on the inside of his bottom lip.

Patrick leaves the windshield for last, doing the right side first. He circles around the hood and comes to stand on Jonny’s side. Jonny presses his feet a little harder against the floor as he’s sitting there, transfixed, watching the gold chain around Patrick’s neck dangle with the back-and-forth movements of his arms. When the entire windshield is covered in soap and he can’t see Patrick anymore, Jonny feels oddly relieved. He looks down and adjusts himself in his shorts, his cock having chubbed up during Patrick’s little performance. The brief touch through the fabric to his sensitive cock has him releasing a noise from between his teeth. 

He’s got both of his hands back on the steering wheel when Patrick starting hosing down the car with water, finishing up the last of the washing. He gets a thumbs up and turns the car on, driving off the tarp. 

Patrick walks along with the car and Jonny stops, lowering the window. He leans his forearm on the edge.

“So,” Patrick says, leaning in again. Tiny droplets of water drip down from his curls, onto the skin of Jonny’s forearm. “Satisfied?”

Jonny swallows, trying to go for nonchalance by giving a twitch with his jaw. “It’ll do.”

Patrick holds his gaze for a long beat, a smile playing around his mouth. A hint of a dimple starts to appear when he says, “Alright. I’ll have to do better next time, then.” He opens up his palm. “That’ll be ten bucks.”

He feels around in his pocket, fingers closing around a note. “Keep it,” he says, taking it out and handing it over to Patrick.

Patrick is still looking at him but he eventually looks down at the fifty dollar bill, a few drops of water darkening the paper. He lets out a soft whistle and grins, “On behalf of the Chicago food bank, thank you for your donation.”

“You’re welcome.” He keeps his eyes on Patrick, taking in the sight of him.

A few seconds tick by before Patrick lowers his own, fingers curling around the money. “Feel free to come by the shop anytime something’s up with the car, Jonny.” He looks back up at him, a low tone to his voice when he asks, “Okay?”

Jonny’s throat feels strangled with want, feeling his feet twitch with the idea to just get out of the car and push Patrick up against something, out of view from everyone. He just nods, though. “I will.”

Patrick nods, too, hitting the edge of the window with his palm before pulling back. “Have a good one.” 

“You, too,” Jonny says, turning the car back on.

When he turns the car and heads towards the gate of the parking lot, he looks in his rearview mirror and sees Patrick looking after him. He raises his hand and Patrick does, too, and he waves until Jonny’s turned the corner. 

 

-

 

There’s a few traffic rules he breaks as he speeds home, doing a horrible job of parking his car when he gets to his building. He sends up a thanks when the elevator is completely empty, his dick still uncomfortable pushing up against the front of his shorts. His eyes are fixed on the floors passing by, and he pushes off the wall when the doors open on his floor. 

Once he’s inside of his apartment, he lets himself drop down on the couch. His dick hardens fully again when he grips it through his pants. He palms the fat base of it, pressing the pads of his fingers up against the outline of his balls. His breath comes out short and fast though his nose. Jesus, he’s like a teenager, getting all worked up over a perky ass and a see through shirt. 

But it wasn’t just that, and he knows it, too. It was the way Patrick had flashed him those smiles, his tongue between his teeth and his dimples out, like he was happy to see Jonny again. It was the blond curls sticking to the nape of his neck, his pale skin looking wet and smooth. It was the tendons in Patrick’s forearm as he rested it on the opened window, cocking his head sideways to meet Jonny’s eyes. 

His fingers tremble a little as he works to unbutton his fly. He takes out his cock from between the slit in his boxers, not wanting to bother with taking them off. A low moan escapes from between his teeth when he fists his cock, dragging his thumb over the slit. The side of his wrist chafes uncomfortably against the zipper of his shorts but he doesn’t stop, moving his hand rapidly up and down. 

Pre-come gathers at the head, a pearly drop moving down the length of his cock. He flexes his hips, pushing up into the motion of his hand. His eyes close on their own accord, images of Patrick coming up. Patrick on his knees in the middle of the shop, the tip of his tongue moving over the head of Jonny’s cock. Up against the wall, with Jonny rucking up his dirty tank to look at the curve of his perky ass, reddening up the pale skin with a few slaps. 

He can barely think through the haze in his head, squeezing his eyes shut harder. He imagines fucking into Patrick and looking down at where his cock goes into Patrick’s hole, the flesh of Patrick’s ass bouncing with every thrust. The noises Patrick would make, too. He’s heard some of them already, the soft little grunts that escape his lips whenever he’s working hard on a car.

The heat builds in his core and he loses the rhythm of his hand, jerking quickly at the sensitive skin. The head of his cock is dark pink from the friction and he bites his lip as he looks down, thinking of what it’d look like after coming deep in Patrick’s ass. 

He comes imagining Patrick licking up the remnants of his come from the tip of his cock, the thick ropes shooting up his hand and covering his knuckles and lower stomach. His breathing is erratic, leaving his nose on quick bursts. He lets himself sink further into the couch, the tension flowing away from his lower back. A small grimace curls on his lips as he wipes his hand off on his shirt. 

He’ll take a shower soon to get rid of the sticky mess. If he were Patrick’s age, he’d go again in the shower--picking right up where his imagination had left off with Patrick holding his mouth open, eyelashes fluttering and closed in anticipation. A soft noise leaves his lips when his cock gives a twitch that’s just on the good side of painful. Maybe he  _ can _ pick up where he left off. 

 

-

 

He manages to hold off for a whole week. There’s a few times where his fingers hover over his phone, the contact for Kane’s Cars and Repairs pulled up on the screen. It’s not that easy, though. He makes it difficult for himself, arguing with himself on the way to practice that Patrick is too young, that he wouldn’t want to be with a thirty-year-old with chronic pain in his knees and increasingly graying hair. 

At night, it’s different. In the dark, he can remember the looks Patrick gave him the first time they met, the easy banter he sent Jonny’s way during their second meeting. Sometimes he feels the skin of the inside of his fingers twitch in the place where Patrick had rested his own, both of them breathing in each other’s breath and the smell of gasoline in the cramped space under the car. He’d pulled back, too shaken by the gesture to realize how much he’d wanted it, too. How much more he wants, now. 

He caves on a Friday evening. It’s just past seven p.m. when he dials the number and presses the phone to his ear. His knee bounces up and down as he listens to the dial tone, until there is a click.

“Kane’s Car and Repairs, this is Patrick speaking. How can I help you tonight?”

His breath gets stuck somewhere in the back of his throat, but he manages to clear it and say, “Hi, Pat. It’s Jonny.”

“Jonny,” Patrick repeats. “Hey. Something wrong with the car? She give up on you again on the highway?”

“No, nothing like that,” Jonny says. He bites his lower lip, cursing at himself to not think of an excuse before calling. “The car’s, uh, fine.”

“Oh. Glad to hear it,” Patrick says. 

It stays quiet for a beat and he tries to wrack his brain for a valid excuse to bring his car in. “It’s the lights,” he blurts, clenching his free hand in a fist, pushing it against his forehead. “They’re broken.”

“Alright, front or rear?”

“Uh, front.” Jonny gets up from where he’d been sitting on the couch, beginning to pace around the living room. 

“Oh, good,” Patrick says. “You should have a spare lying around the car, usually in the glove compartment. It’s pretty easy to change yourself.”

_ Shit _ . Jonny lets out a harsh breath through his nose. “I, ah, I don’t think I have the spare. I looked for it already.”

“That’s fine, they also have them at most hardware stores.”

Jesus, this is going downhill fast. Jonny stops pacing, propping his hand up against the floor to ceiling window. With his eyes fixed on the street lights below, he admits, “Honestly. I’d rather just bring it in. You know my car, if it’s not the lights it’s the battery willing to catch on fire at any moment. I’d feel better with you taking a look at it.”

He can hear Patrick’s laugh on the other side, a smile forming on his lips. 

“Okay.” Patrick sounds amused. “Sure, you can bring it in. It’ll only take me a few minutes. I have two slots tomorrow for you. One’s at eleven in the morning, the other’s at ten-thirty at night.”

Jonny takes a few seconds, his brain trying to catch up. Kane’s usually closes before ten on a Saturday. Patrick is inviting him outside the normal hours. His stomach tightens at the idea, being alone in the shop with Patrick again. 

“Jonny?” 

“Ten-thirty,” he says, quickly. “Ten-thirty is fine for me.”

“Okay. I’ll write it down.” 

Jonny licks his lower lip, hoping that he doesn’t mistake the pleased tone in Patrick’s voice. He inhales deeply. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Patrick’s voice takes on a hint of assurance. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Pat.”

He breathes out.

 

-

 

The night sky is dark and clear by the time he rolls up to the garage. The moon is full, illuminating the metal shutter that is still open, yellow light glowing into the dark. He drives up to it and gives a wave with his fingers when Patrick appears in the opening, beckoning him closer with the wrench he’s holding.

There’s a hint of a smirk on Patrick’s lips once Jonny has parked the car. Jonny notices it when he gets out of it, the sound of the door closing loud in the empty garage. The only light in the garage comes from overhead in their section, the rest of the space completely dark.

“What?” he asks, walking around to Patrick, who’s standing by the front of the car.

Patrick’s mouth curls in a full-on smirk as he looks down at the wrench he’s twisting in his palm. He’s got his cap on backwards, curls coming out from under the edge. He briefly meets Jonny’s before he jerks his chin downwards at the car. Jonny follows the movement. 

“Bright headlights you’re sporting there,” Patrick says slowly. 

Jonny feels a nervous curl of heat in his stomach when he turns to face Patrick. From this close, he can see the tension in Patrick’s traps and the twitchy movement of him worrying his lip between his teeth. The cross on his gold chain gleams in the light. 

“You know I’m not here for the headlights.” He steps a little closer and curls his index finger around the chain. 

There’s a loud clang when Patrick drops the wrench on the concrete floor and Jonny startles a little, Patrick letting himself be tugged in by the chain. “What are you here for, then?”

Jonny swallows, Patrick’s eyes following the movement of his throat. Patrick’s scent is a mix of gasoline, sweat, and pine. It makes him feel heady as he says,“Call it a do-over of the other night. I’m sorry ‘bout that, I freaked out.”

“It’s okay,” Patrick drags his eyes over the button-down Jonny’s wearing before looking up again. “You probably thought you were taking advantage of me, huh? With my celebrity crush on you. ”

He can’t help the soft snort that escapes, giving Patrick a fond smile. “Kinda, yeah.”

Patrick brings up his index finger, tracing it down the buttons on his shirt. Patrick’s touch leaves a trail of heat on his skin and he clenches his jaw, restraining himself. 

“At first I thought you weren’t into me,” Patrick says, moving in closer, his hips resting against Jonny’s. He grins a little. “But when you showed up at the car wash I pretty much knew you were. You hardly even blinked the whole time. Like a psycho.”

“How could I not? You were soaked, nipples showing through your tank and all.”

He hears Patrick inhale sharply through his nose. “I wanted you to come,” he confesses, softly. His eyes are somewhere at Jonny’s temple, his fingers carding through the hair. “Even though the last time had gone terribly, I still wanted you to show up. And I saw you.”

Their eyes meet and Jonny looks down to Patrick’s mouth, imagining the taste of the pink bow of Patrick’s upper lip. Wants to suck it between his teeth and bite it. 

“I saw you through the window from the side, reaching down. Touching your dick.” Patrick looks down to Jonny’s crotch while he says it, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

“Yeah?” Jonny breathes, his hands taking hold of Patrick’s hips. He gently moves both of them backwards, until Patrick’s ass touches the hood of his car. “You saw me getting hard for you? Not looking away from your wet shorts clinging to your ass?”

He moves his hands to Patrick’s ass, feeling the heavy globes in his palms. Patrick releases a soft noise when he tightens his grip, squeezing the flesh. He arches up into Jonny’s ass, a red flush high on his cheeks. 

“Wanted to yank you out of your seat. Get you somewhere no one saw and just, get on my knees. Suck you down,” Patrick breathes. “So please,  _ do _ take advantage of me. I promise I’ll do the same.”

The words send a shock of lust down Jonny’s stomach and he darts in close to press a hard kiss against Patrick’s lips. He brings one hand up, curling it around the side of Patrick’s neck. His thumb presses underneath Patrick’s chin, tilting it up before he brings down his mouth again to meet Patrick’s fully. 

He feels Patrick’s groan reverberate in his own chest, moving his lips against the plush softness of Patrick mouth. Patrick opens his mouth on the next kiss, tongue darting out to meet his. The first slick touch of their tongues has Jonny pushing his hips closer to Patrick, feeling both of their cocks harden in their shorts. 

Patrick breaks the kiss, looking down at where their hips are pressed together. “Fuck, Jon.”

“Y’know, I thought about it, too. Dragging you off somewhere, push you down.” Jonny moves his hands down Patrick’s sides, feeling his ribs under his palms. He hooks them just below Patrick’s ass, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. In one swift movement, he lifts Patrick up onto the hood of his car. “Wouldn’t care if people had seen, either.”

Patrick goes along with it, a dark hint of lust in his eyes. He leans back on his elbows, opening his knees. It’s a lot, the sight of Patrick spread out on his car. His strong corded forearms are pressed against the blue paint job, showing off the dip of his collar bones. 

Jonny moves in between the space between Patrick’s legs, feeling Patrick’s thighs close around his hips. He dips his head, dragging his mouth along Patrick’s collar bones, alternating between sucking hot kisses and nipping with his teeth. 

Their eyes meet when Jonny drags his head back up. Patrick’s breathing softly from his mouth, his blue eyes piercing into Jonny’s. His fingers drag through Jonny’s hair, the pad of his thumb rubbing across his temple. 

“You gonna do it?” he asks, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick at the scar on Jonny’s top lip. He teases at it, breathing hotly into Jonny’s mouth. “Put me on my knees?” 

Jonny feels his cock stiff and rock hard in his pants, feels the jerk it gives at Patrick’s words. The teasing of Patrick’s tongue has him imagining what it’d be like, how good Patrick would take it. It makes him press in closer, his forearms propped up against the sides of Patrick’s chest. 

“Bet you’re good at it.” He presses a kiss against Patrick’s lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth. He releases it on a soft nip. “Got the mouth for it.”

He curls his hands around Patrick’s wrists as he straightens, tugging Patrick along. Patrick goes easily, moving his hand to Jonny’s chest to turn their positions. Jonny lets the hood of the car take his weight as he leans against it, his feet spreading on the floor as he widens his legs. 

When he puts a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, thumb pressing into the hollow of his collar bone, Patrick goes to his knees easily. It makes a shiver go down his spine, seeing Patrick in between his thighs. 

“C’mon,” Patrick says, eyes fixed on Jonny’s crotch. He moves the palms of his hands across the flesh of Jonny’s thighs, fingertips dipping underneath the fabric of his shorts. “Take it out.”

Jonny tugs loose the buckle on his belt, the zipper rasping as he drags it down. His covered cock pushes out of the v-shaped opening, bulging now that it’s almost free. He sees Patrick’s throat work as he swallows, wonders what it’d feel like to push his cock into it. 

Patrick curls his fingers around the waistband of Jonny’s black boxers, the elastic band a little damp from the sweat that’s gathering at the dip of his spine. He gently tugs it down, the shorts riding lower on Jonny’s thighs, too. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, once Jonny’s cock springs free. The tone in his voice makes Jonny feel clammy all over. The way Patrick’s looking at his cock--

Jonny fists the thick length of it, slapping the weight of it in his palm. The flesh is hot to the touch and the head is a glistening shade of red. Patrick scoots a little closer, his fingers on the sensitive skin on the inside of Jonny’s knees. He’s tipping his head up as he looks at Jonny fisting his cock, his lashes fluttering. 

When he goes to lick his bottom lip, Jonny tugs him in close with a hand at the back of his neck. Patrick’s tongue flicks across the head and his moan shivers throughout Jonny’s cock. His lips widen, taking the first few inches in.

Patrick’s mouth feels amazing around his cock, velvet slick and heat enveloping him. His tongue is firm yet soft, tracing along the vein. He’s moved one of his hands from Jonny’s knee to his hip, sliding his fingers down until they wrap around the base of Jonny’s cock. The touch is warm and grounding, Patrick’s thumb pressing low against his balls.

“Jesus, Pat,” Jonny moans, watching Patrick’s eyes flutter closed. His eyelashes are long, barely an inch separating them from the red flush that’s covering his cheekbones. “Feels good.”

The hum that Patrick releases around his cock has his toes curling in pleasure, his hips jerking up into the movements of Patrick’s mouth. Patrick takes him deeper, tilting his head slightly back to open up his throat. Jonny can feel the tight heat of Patrick’s throat around the head of his cock, sending a shock of deep, raw pleasure through his balls.

He moves his hands to Patrick’s cheeks, feeling himself moving in and out of Patrick’s mouth. Patrick’s skin is warm, drops of sweat clinging to his temples. There’s a smear of grease that’s gone runny from the humid heat and Jonny lets his thumbs move across Patrick’s cheeks, spreading the black grease down his cheekbone. Patrick is breathing through his nose, all hitched and high, like he’s getting lost in it, too. He pushes Patrick’s snapback off with a flick of his hand, burying his fingers into Patrick’s soft curls. 

Patrick’s throat constricts on a moan and Jonny can feel his stuttered breathing coming from his nose as it brushes his pubes. Patrick’s chin is wet with spit and his lips are a blushy shade of pink, full around the base of his cock. Jonny uses his grip to drag Patrick off of his cock, using his hips to push the head of it against Patrick’s swollen lips. 

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing the pads of his fingers across Patrick’s scalp, soothing him.

Patrick makes a plaintive noise, his watery blue eyes meeting Jonny’s. “C’mon,” he mutters. “More.”

Hearing the rough and needy sound of Patrick’s voice, Jonny allows him to take his cock back in. He eases his cock along Patrick’s tongue toward the back of his mouth, feeling the slick inside as he pushes down his throat. The muscles in Patrick’s throat clench and close around his cock, his hands doing the same on the inside of Jonny’s knees. His cock releases a burst of pre-cum and he sees Patrick’s throat work, tongue moving to lap it up. 

“Look at you,” he mutters, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He releases his hand from Patrick’s curls, using his fingers curl around Patrick’s throat. “Fuck, I can feel my cock going down inside you.”

When the head of his cock hits the back of Patrick’s throat, Jonny releases his shaking fingers from around Patrick’s throat, bringing them back into his hair. The tension in his body makes his abs clench up, his hips flexing as he keeps up the rhythm. He can’t think of anything else anymore, just the need to thrust up into Patrick’s face. He widens his stance a little and props one hand behind him on the hood of the car, using it for leverage to tug Patrick further down on his cock with his other hand. His balls slap against Patrick’s chin with every thrust of his hips, the sound obscene in the quiet garage.

Patrick goes with it, his mouth going even slicker around Jonny’s. His shaky breaths grow louder, noises slipping out from his mouth. He’s tight with tension between Jonny’s legs. 

Seeing Patrick like this, all desperate, it makes his balls draw tight against his body. He feels the rush of his orgasm nearing, his abs clenching up with every thrust inside Patrick’s mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his knees going a little weak when Patrick presses the tip of his tongue right under the crown of his cock. “Gonna come.”

Patrick lets out a soft noise, the hum of it going straight to the base of Jonny’s cock. He changes the angle a little, letting him hit the back of his throat with every push. 

When Patrick opens his eyes, meeting his own, Jonny feels his cock give a twitch. He starts coming on the in-stroke, his cock buried deep. The muscles of Patrick’s throat work around him, swallowing up the come spurting from the head of his cock. 

Jonny tosses his head back, feeling overcome with the rush of pleasure. He brings a shaking hand to Patrick’s face, rubbing his thumb across the bone of his jaw. 

Patrick slowly drags his mouth back, his lips soft and swollen against Jonny’s cock. He sits back on his heels, meeting Jonny’s eyes.

“I think I’m dead,” Jonny sighs, shaking his head as he lets out a breathy laugh. He curls a hand around Patrick’s wrist.

Patrick goes languidly along as Jonny tugs him up. He changes their positions, Patrick leaning against the hood of the car. The touch of Patrick’s shorts against his bare cock has him twitching with sensitivity, and he haphazardly tugs up his boxers and shorts over his ass. 

He meets Patrick’s eyes again and can’t help the stunned little laugh that leaves his lips. “Jesus, Pat.”

“Kiss me,” Patrick mutters, voice raw. 

There’s a need written in the blue of his eyes and Jonny’s helpless to do anything but obey. He tugs Patrick in by the back of his neck, pressing their mouths together. Patrick’s lips are fiery against his own, fat and wet with abuse. He pushes his tongue inside, tasting himself on Patrick’s tongue and the inside of his cheeks. 

Patrick is shaking with tension between his arms, his hands on Jonny’s hips and his calves against the back of Jonny’s legs. He’s making these little jerky movements, the bulge of his cock rubbing against Jonny’s thigh.

Breaking the kiss on a wet breath, Jonny pulls back to meet Patrick’s eyes. “What do you want?” he asks, moving his hands up and down Patrick’s back. He softly squeezes his waist before grabbing onto Patrick’s ass to lift him further onto the hood. “Tell me.” 

“Wanna get off,” Patrick says, darting in to press a heated kiss against Jonny’s lips. “Right here, like this.”

The words send a shiver of heat down Jonny’s spine and he feels the sheen of sweat on his back. His lips curl into a smile, tugging Patrick tight against him. “Like this, huh? That a childhood fantasy you didn’t tell me about?”

“Multiple ones combined, actually,” Patrick rasps, clearing his throat. A few curls are matted to his forehead. “Incredibly hot hockey player…”

“Check,” Jonny mutters against Patrick’s lips.

“In the garage…”

“Check.”

He can hear Patrick’s jaw click as he swallows. “On his expensive car.”

He pulls back slightly, meeting Patrick’s eyes. “Really?”

Patrick briefly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek before giving Jonny a smile, dimples in his cheeks. “There’s also an elaborate version, but let’s sort this one out first.”

Patrick pushes two fingers in between the buttons of Jonny’s shirt, pulling. Jonny lets himself be tugged in closer, his shins touching the number plate on his car. He spreads a hand in the middle of Patrick’s chest and gives a soft push. Patrick goes easily, leaning back on his elbows again. There’s an upwards twitch in his left eyebrow, as he looks between Jonny’s face and the tent in his shorts.

Jonny rubs his thumb across Patrick’s collar bone, moving it downwards to circle the peak of Patrick’s nipple through his thin tank. He rucks up the hem, exposing Patrick’s pale and defined stomach to the yellow light from above. Patrick lets out a noise and lies down completely on the hood, his back curving slightly.

“I’m terribly sorry, Sir,” Jonny says, a low tone to his voice. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Patrick’s shorts and tugs them down, Patrick shifting his weight to his shoulders so he can lift up his ass. “I’m really happy you fixed my car, but I forgot to bring any money. What can I do to pay you?”

Patrick lets out an exasperated groan and aims his knee at Jonny’s crotch, which he easily avoids with a laugh. “I take it that’s not a part of the fantasy, then?” 

“Not like that, no,” Patrick says, looking down at Jonny, his expression both turned on and disdainful. His eyes go dark when Jonny cups the obscene curve of his cock through the soft fabric of his boxers.

“Like what, then?” Jonny tugs down Patrick’s boxers. Patrick’s cock slaps against his hand as it bounces free from the elastic waistband. Jonny bites on the inside of his cheek, taking in the sight of Patrick’s cock. It’s thick, with a wide base and a flared, pink head. There’s wetness pooling at the slit and he drags the pad of his index finger down the slit to the thick vein. “Fuck. Knew you’d have a gorgeous cock, too.”

Patrick lets out a noise between his teeth, fingers splaying wider on hood of the car. “Jesus, Jonny, like  _ that _ .”

“Yeah?” The corner of Jonny’s mouth lifts. He tightens his grip around Patrick’s cock, the flesh hot and firm in his palm. “Need me to tell you how pretty you are?”

He could, is the thing. He could talk for hours about how Patrick looks right now, spread on the hood of the car like he’s Jonny’s, like he owns Patrick and can put him anywhere he wants to. When he tells Patrick that, Patrick’s cock gives a sharp twitch in his grip.

“Jonny,” Patrick sighs, a whiny tone to his voice when Jonny starts to jerk his cock with a quick and steady rhythm, twisting the movement at the tip. “You know I’m not gonna last like this.”

“Good.”

Patrick suddenly feels to far away from him and Jonny lets go of his cock. Ignoring Patrick’s complaints, he tugs Patrick off of the car by his wrists and twists him once he’s standing. He plasters his chest against Patrick’s back, fingers curling back around Patrick’s cock in one smooth stroke.

“Oh, god,” Patrick grits out between his teeth, almost going slack in Jonny’s arms. His hips move on their own accord, pushing his cock into the tight channel of Jonny’s fingers.

“Hands on the hood,” Jonny mutters, his mouth against the small hollow behind Patrick’s ear. Close like this, he can smell the oil and the gasoline that clings to Patrick’s hair and it makes his spent cock give a twitch in his boxers.

Patrick leans forward, placing his palms on the hood of the car. Jonny stays close, his body tight against Patrick as he keeps jerking him off. He closes his other hand around Patrick’s hip, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“Gonna make you come on the car,” he whispers against Patrick’s ear, listening closely to all the little moans and noises that escape Patrick’s lips, “And then we’ll drive to my place, with your come drying on the hood.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Patrick breathes, a high tone to his voice. He’s looking down at where Jonny’s pumping his cock. His thrusts aren’t steady anymore, his oncoming orgasm making his body shake. “C’mon Jonny, do it.”

Jonny feels his forearm cramp up with the quickness of his jerks but Patrick’s words make him forget it, keeping up the fast pace. He brings his other hand down from Patrick’s hip to his balls, cupping them. 

“We might not even make it up to my apartment, though,” he mutters, giving a small nip to Patrick’s earlobe. “I might just fuck you in the car, get you bent over and ass up in the backseat.”

Patrick’s reply gets swallowed up by the moan slipping out from between his lips. His cock twitches in Jonny’s palm and he’s coming, thick jets shooting from the head of his cock onto the dark blue paint job of the car. The sight of it makes Jonny curse, his hand still moving to get the last of Patrick’s come. 

Patrick is breathing hard, his forearms trembling as he tries to keep himself up. Jonny curls his arm around Patrick’s chest and tugs him back against his own, taking his weight. He can feel Patrick’s chest moving under his hand as Patrick slowly comes down from his orgasm. 

He turns him around in his arms when Patrick’s stopped shaking, and claims his lips in a hot kiss. 

“So, what do you say?” he whispers against Patrick’s lip, rubbing his thumbs along the ridges of Patrick’s hip bones.

Patrick hums, pulling back slightly to ask, “About what?”

“About me taking you home and fucking you,” Jonny says, moving one hand to Patrick’s ass and pushing his middle finger into the crack, brushing Patrick’s hole. “Either in my bed or in the backseat.”

“Oh, that.” There’s a glint in Patrick’s eyes. “I thought that was a joke. Didn’t think an old man like you would be able to go twice in one night.”

Jonny presses his thumb against Patrick’s bottom lip, using the inches he’s got on Patrick to look down at him. “Get in the car and I’ll show you.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! any feedback is lovingly drooled upon ♡
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://www.peeks.tumblr.com).


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